


Argument

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [126]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drabble, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Reconciliation, Wicca
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 14:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18448109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: Deathmask and Aphrodite have an argument, after Deathmask leaves early from a house party Aphrodite invited him to.





	Argument

**Author's Note:**

> From a batch of prompts I did over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com). This was previously posted in a drabble collection 'Saint Seiya: Snapshots’, that I have chosen to take down and post individually for ease of access. 
> 
> Original author's note: Yet another ambiguous modern AU. Deathmask is Wiccan and doesn't murder people. Aphrodite is a tall beautiful model, and Deathmask is the angriest short dude, because I can. Also I love Misty, don't be mad.  
> (Originally posted 7-6-2017)

Aphrodite stormed into the apartment in a fit of pique. Deathmask looked up, sighing heavily and putting his book down, pulling off his reading glasses.

“Where were you! You just left me there at the party! You _ditched_ me!” Aphrodite hissed. Deathmask rolled his eyes.

“You were fine. Besides, that party really wasn't my scene. I half expected someone to pull out makeup they were selling us all or something.” Deathmask shrugged. Aphrodite made a soft, incoherent noise of rage.

“We can't all have parties in the middle of the woods with dead things, bonfires, and heathen ritualistic dancing!” He cried, truly at the end of his tether. Deathmask frowned- something about the way Aphrodite said it rubbed him the wrong way.

“You went to one of my celebrations once, ‘Dite. You didn't even stay for the tarot readings, and that was the part I thought you'd like. Why should I stay at one of your boring house parties when you can't stay at one of my Sabbats?” He challenged coldly. Aphrodite had no reply to that, face going cold and still. “Besides, you were having fun with that awkward leggy guy, weren't you?” He sneered derisively. “Shura or whatever. The one whose sister dragged him there. Besides, that Misty guy called me a rat, and I don't have time for that shit.” Deathmask shrugged, faux-nonchalant. His appearance was a bit of a touchy subject, albinism was often seen as just something that happened in books and movies, not in real life. Aphrodite looked briefly livid on his behalf.

“That jealous little  _lizard_!” Aphrodite hissed, before visibly composing himself. “Look, I didn't stay at your Sabbat because that one guy, I think his name was Alberich? He was… making advances, and it was making me uncomfortable. I should have told you.” Aphrodite admitted, and it was Deathmask’s turn to see red.

“That conniving little dick,” he breathed, grabbing his phone and sending a fast, angry series of texts to Hilda. Aphrodite flushed slightly. “Don’t worry, babe, he's never coming to another Sabbat again.” He said, smiling vicious and victorious. He showed Aphrodite his phone thoughtlessly, forgetting that Hilda had referred to his roommate as his ‘pretty boyfriend’ before promising to go with Thor and have a ‘talk’ with Alberich. Aphrodite actually blushed.

“If you had asked me to stay, I would've, Deathmask.” He said softly, and Deathmask flushed at the sudden intimacy of his tone. “I was having fun, up until that point, even if I didn't know what I was doing.”

“Hey, I'm sorry, ‘Dite. I should have stuck closer to you, made sure you were really okay and having fun.” Deathmask muttered, rubbing the back of his head. Aphrodite stepped closer, and how the hell did Deathmask always forget that the Swede was taller than him? “‘Dite?” He asked softly. Aphrodite smiled, tipping his head up and kissing him. Deathmask thought his heart might beat straight out of his chest.

"You're remarkably sweet when you want to be, Deathmask,” Aphrodite murmured, and he flushed brightly.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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End file.
